Burn Notice
by gietzeng
Summary: Zell and Irvine investigate the rumor of what Quistis does after curfew when no one's around.  They will come to regret their curiosity.


Zell darted into the silent concourse, Irvine following close behind. A member of the faculty, carrying out a nighttime patrol, started in their direction and then stopped cold once he recognized them. He nodded warily at them and resumed the hunt for errant cadets – far smaller and easier prey.

"I still don't believe you," Irvine said, whispering.

Zell fixed him with a glare. "This is the real deal," he replied. "Promise."

"I've heard that before. The haunted instructor's lounge?"

"That _could've _been a ghost," Zell answered, indignant.

"It shared a vent with Instructor Aki's office," Irvine shot back, "and everyone knows he—"

"I wish it _had_ been a ghost," Zell hissed.

A moment passed and both men shuddered in response to unwanted mental images.

"And the so-called Seven Mysteries of Balamb?" Irvine added, eager to redirect his attention. "We spent three days on that—"

"Sure, you focus on those, I start to look bad. But what about the other stuff?"

"What other—"

Zell counted off on his fingers, his voice rising. "One: lake monster. Two: flying saucer _and alien_. Three: talking monkey. _Talking monkey_, Irvine!"

Irvine gestured for Zell to quiet down. "All I'm saying is that you have a less-than-stellar average with your paranormal phenomena, and those were _way _more plausible than this."

"And yet you're here, cowboy, so what does that say about you?"

Irvine scowled. "Well, if it's true…" he mumbled.

Zell smiled, knowing he'd won. "_Exactly._"

Their training came into play automatically as they approached their destination, leaving the concourse and they moving across the empty room unseen and inaudible. From a far corner, they could hear a woman's voice. Quistis. Swearing.

Irvine's eyes went wide as he took in the litany of obscenities. No stranger to filth, he felt himself turning red at a few of the suggestions. Even by the standards of mercenaries, someone had crossed a line.

_I told you so_, Zell mouthed, pointing the way to his chosen vantage point.

They crouched in the shadows. Irvine shook his head. "When you see it with your own eyes…" he murmured.

Zell nodded in appreciation. "I know, right?"

"Why _here_, of all places?"

"It's three in the morning," Zell shot back. "No one's supposed to be in here. She thinks she's alone."

Irvine thought for a moment. "Or…" he shrugged.

Zell's breath caught. "You… you think she _wants _to get caught?"

Irvine shrugged. "Maybe that's her thing. She can't show this side of herself to anyone, because… who'd believe it? But then, it's late, she's here alone, someone comes along and things… go from there."

They waited, the torrent of Quistis' profanity the soundtrack to their thoughts.

"You know," Zell said, voice halting and soft. "When we were thirteen, she asked me to—"

Irvine's jaw dropped. "_What_?"

Zell chewed his lip for a moment, uncertain. "She was always so busy studying, she never had time for anything else. She said, since we were friends, maybe we should just… It was just something she thought she needed to learn." He fell silent, frowned. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Oh, come on!" Irvine hissed. "Don't hold out! Did you?"

A long pause. Zell nodded.

"And? How was it?"

Another pause. "Awkward. Unpleasant. She cried. _I_ cried." A beat. "We agreed we'd never speak of it again."

"Wow." Irvine could think of nothing more to say, though.

"Let's get out of here," Zell offered, as the vulgarity in the distance worked its way up to a fever pitch. "She's our friend. We shouldn't be spying on her like this."

"You want to _leave?_" Irvine asked.

"Look, we came to confirm the rumor and we did. Chalk one up for our investigation, but this has gone way beyond that. Let's just go and give her some privacy."

Irvine considered this. "_Or_," he said, reaching into a pocket and producing his phone, "we could capture it on video for posterity."

Zell shot Irvine a murderous look. "It would destroy her. We're _going_." His hand shot out, grabbing for Irvine's phone. Irvine tried to move his hand away, but Zell's martial arts training gave him the advantage.

"Drop it," he commanded, grabbing Irvine's wrist.

"No!"

Zell twisted just enough. With a yelp of pain, Irvine dropped his phone. Time slowed to a crawl as the cafeteria fell silent again. She'd heard them.

"I _told _you to be careful," Zell exclaimed, jumping to his feet and hauling Irvine up with him. "I've seen three cadets stub their toes on that exact spot!"

The sound of footsteps mirrored the thudding of their hearts. She stopped in front of them, the raging banshee from moments before gone. She had donned her mask of icy calm. She looked at each of them, slowly, probing for weaknesses.

"What are you boys doing here at this hour?" she asked, her tone all sweetness and light. She'd directed the question at both of them, but she'd locked eyes with Irvine, and he could feel his resolve crumbling. All the years of training, the practice in lying and dissembling, melted away and he groped for the first excuse he could find.

He looked over to Zell, trying in vain to warn off his friend with telepathic signals. _Don't say it, please don't say it, you don't know how bad it was, she hasn't gotten any better, whatever you do—_

But the words had a momentum all their own, and once they had formed in his brain, he couldn't stop them. "We were… coming to get a snack?"

A buzzer rang in the distance, and Quistis smiled. "Just in time, boys, cookies are done."


End file.
